


Like A Fire In My Blood

by kelex



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: M/M, bottom!Crowley - Freeform, top!aziraphale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-27 23:45:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19800256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelex/pseuds/kelex
Summary: Sometimes a realization can happen all at once, on something as simple as a cup of tea being passed from hand to hand.





	Like A Fire In My Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Title from “Holding Out For A Hero” by Bonnie Tyler. Somehow this fucker tried to grow a bit of a plot, but I stomped it out ruthlessly.

Sometimes, a realization can happen all at once, on something as simple as a cup of tea being passed from one hand to another. 

And sometimes it can happen over a longer period of time, say five thousand years, on something as indefinite as Armageddon. 

But, very rarely, it can be both. 

<hr>

It was a Tuesday evening in Soho, much like many other Tuesday evenings in the past. The sky was a bit overcast, the rain was more an omnipresent mist than actual rain, and it was, in Aziraphale's opinion, the perfect weather for curling up in his favorite armchair with a good book. 

It was, in Crowley's opinion, the perfect weather for turning into a giant snake and snoozing while draped along the back of Aziraphale's chair. His tail lay over the angel’s shoulder and coiled loosely around his upper body. 

Every so often, usually when he turned a page, Aziraphale would pet or stroke Crowley's scales absently. 

The bookshop had been closed since two o’clock, and Crowley had arrived shortly thereafter. He'd immediately shifted and slithered onto the chair, and neither had moved. 

It was getting on past nine, and Aziraphale had lost track of time and everything else. In fact, he had not even noticed that he'd been deserted, until a china cup and saucer appeared in his field of vision. “Oh!” He blinked, surprised. “I was just thinking of a cup of tea…” he trailed off. 

A full service sat on the footstool beside the chair, including a plate of iced biscuits and a few cucumber and watercress sandwiches. Then he registered that Crowley was holding out a cup of tea, milk and sugar, just the way he made it himself. “You made me tea?” 

“Obviously,” Crowley drawled, passing the cup to Aziraphale before pouring one himself. “Thought you could do with something to nibble on,” he added. 

Aziraphale said nothing, just swirled the tea in his cup. It was, in every way, a perfect cup of tea; the aroma was strong but not overwhelming, the color dark but not opaque, and the flavor was the perfect blend of milk, tea, and sugar. 

He took a long look at Crowley, just thinking about all the things Crowley had surprised him with over time. He took a great deal of enjoyment from staring at Crowley while he thought, and he licked his lips when he was done with his tea. 

There were five thousand years of things great and small. From the reassuring words on Eden’s wall to the aversion of Armageddon, Aziraphale came to the realization that Crowley had, intentionally or unintentionally, been courting him for five millennia. 

And then he remembered Lower Tadfield Air Base.  _ You better think of something, or I'll never talk to you again.  _ And that had galvanized Crowley to stop time by sheer willpower, hold it stopped, and transported them  _ and  _ the Antichrist child to another plane of existence. 

“Crowley, come here.” 

“Everything all right?” Crowley put his cup aside and got out of his chair. He crossed the space between the chairs in a couple of swaggering steps, and crouched down to Aziraphale's level. 

“Everything is fine, dear boy.” Putting the empty cup aside, Aziraphale leaned in a pressed a short, soft kiss on Crowley's mouth. 

Crowley was startled by the soft kiss, and he pulled away enough to look at Aziraphale in confusion. “Angel, what--”

“I said, everything is fine, my dear Crowley.” He hooked his index finger inside Crowley’s collar and pulled him in again. “Unless you don’t want--”

“Give a demon a chance,” he panted softly, licking his lips. Of bloody  _ course _ this was what he wanted, but it was in no way what he was expecting or had imagined--and as previously established, Crowley had a LOT of imagination.

“No,” was Aziraphale’s decision. “I shan’t give you a chance.” He licked his lips and tugged Crowley forward again. “I think I’m tired of waiting.” 

“Ti--” Crowley lost his train of thought as he focused on Aziraphale’s mouth, hoping that would help him figure out what in the hell was going on. It really didn’t, and he simply became lost in watching Aziraphale’s mouth move, forming shapes of words and not really hearing what was being said.

“Yes, tired of waiting.” Aziraphale leaned in to kiss Crowley again, but this time, there was nothing tender or indirect about it. Both his hands locked in Crowley’s collar to keep him reeled in, and the lean in pushed Crowley back to rest on his heels. His tongue nudged gently at Crowley’s lips, and parted them with ease. 

A searing heat met him. Notes of ash and brimstone lay under the taste of tea, cigarettes, and something dark that always spoke to him of just  _ Crowley. _ Aziraphale wondered what he must feel like to Crowley, whether he felt cool to the demon’s heat, or whether he tasted of sunshine and clouds or Earl Grey and biscuits. 

Didn’t really matter, as Crowley brought his hands up and linked his fingers at the back of Aziraphale’s neck. 

That made him break the kiss, leaning his forehead against Crowley’s. “You can touch me, you know. You’ve been inside of my body, I believe that is what is commonly called permission.”

Crowley gave a shake of his head, even as he licked his lips and swallowed hard. “It’s not that, angel. I don’t... “

Aziraphale knew his darling too well to let him finish that statement, because if he said it, they’d be here all night rehashing the last six thousand years. “I do know, and quite frankly, I should have seen it sooner. So get up off the floor, why don’t we, and follow me.” He got up from his chair, and reached out for Crowley’s hand. When he felt Crowley take it, he laced their fingers together and pulled him up from the floor. 

Crowley followed Aziraphale obediently, climbing the narrow spiral staircase up to the second floor of the building, which opened into a cozy looking little flat. A fireplace, a comfortable armchair, a second desk (smaller than the one in the shop), and a little coffee table filled the main room of the space. A rather larger kitchen than should have fit in the space was to the left, with shiny stainless steel appliances and warm touches of tartan in the towels and pot holders. 

A short hallway led to two bedrooms, one of which was currently in service as a closet. Three hundred years worth of fashion lay carefully sealed in plastic and hung on racks. Crowley just shook his head at that, and let Aziraphale lead him into the other. 

It was a master bedroom of a small-footprint flat, done with a king size bed that looked like it had hardly ever been slept in. A snowy white duvet lay atop the bed, a light sky-blue dust ruffle, and creamy ivory pillowcases encased marshmallow-shaped pillows. On one side of the bed was a table with a Tiffany lamp and two books stacked neatly atop each other.  _ Jane Eyre  _ and something with a faded spine by D.H. Lawrence.

It was entirely possible that Crowley was focusing on absurd details because if he concentrated on what was actually happening to him, he’d either explode or turn into a snake and hide inside the bedposts for a decade.

“So what do you think of my little hideaway?” Aziraphale asked, smiling as he took off his jacket. “Pass me that hanger, will you?” 

Crowley automatically did what he was asked, passing the padded hangar over and watching Aziraphale carefully drape his coat over the padded ends. “Do you know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without that on since you started wearing it?”

“You’re going to see me in much less, if I have anything to say about it.” He carefully tucked the jacket into the closet, smoothing a wrinkle in the sleeve before starting on his vest buttons. 

“Here, let me do that,” Crowley said, reaching for the buttons himself. He carefully pulled out Aziraphale’s pocket watch, gently wound the fob chain around the winged medallion, and placed it on top of the books by the bedside.

“Over on the dresser, there’s a good man, in the cedar box.” 

“Course, right.” Because Aziraphale would not carelessly leave his jewelry on the bedside table. He carefully placed the watch in the velvet-lined box, and turned back to see Aziraphale, vest opened and sitting on the side of the bed. He went back to his angel, standing between Aziraphale’s open legs, and pushed the vest off his shoulders. Under his watchful eyes, Crowley folded the vest and laid it over the foot of the bed, looked back for approval, and moved it to dressing table chair as directed by Aziraphale’s nod. 

Aziraphale leaned back on the bed, bracing himself so that the line of his buttons were waiting for Crowley. 

Taking a deep breath, Crowley started by untucking the shirt from Aziraphale’s trousers, and then beginning at the bottom, he opened every button to reveal the white cotton undershirt beneath. His breath trickled out in a slow hiss, because he’d half expected bare skin, and was both relieved not to see it and frustrated at the lack of it. Because he was smart enough to pick up on a pattern, Crowley retrieved a hanger from the closet, folded the shirt over it to hang precisely, and hung it beside the other button-downs. 

The white undershirt went sailing over Crowley’s head and he startled again, turning to watch it fall into the laundry hamper by the dressing table. When he turned back, Aziraphale’s chest was bare, and it took his breath away. He was perfectly shaped, with strong shoulders, arms that were on display as he leaned back again expectantly. Crowley moved back towards the bed, and Aziraphale’s leg wrapped around Crowley’s, pulling him forward so that he spilled onto the bed beside him. “You know, I wasn’t expecting you to be so hesitant,” he teased gently, and tipped Crowley’s chin up with a single finger. “I’m starting to think you don’t want to be here.”

Crowley groaned softly and moved his chin so that his face fell buried in Aziraphale’s stomach. Soft, gently curved, and warm, he rubbed against it for a long moment before wrapping his arms around Aziraphale’s waist. “Of course I want to be here, you idiot, I’ve wanted for the last four thousand years.” 

Aziraphale let his fingers card through Crowley’s carelessly-styled hair, then pulled his sunglasses off. “Then don’t hide from me,” he scolded, letting the glasses drop into the trash bin. “I’m going to take care of you, but you have to stop hiding.” 

Crowley looked up, yellow eyes meeting the angel’s. “I have to. I don’t know how to do anything else any more.”

A gentle kiss to Crowley’s forehead. “You weren’t very good at hiding it in the first place, my darling.” His thumbs slipped down to caress Crowley’s collarbones, urging him to stretch just a little to meet his mouth. 

The soft kiss had Crowley whimpering softly, feeling adrift. This was nothing like the game they usually played, dancing around and flirting harmlessly and hiding hearts from one another. His only anchor was his grip on Aziraphale’s waist, the snugness of his arms keeping his angel trapped so that whatever they were doing, it would continue to be done together. 

“Keep going, don’t stop now,” Aziraphale ordered, guiding Crowley’s hands to the buckle of his belt. “You know what you want, and I want you to have it.”

What he wanted was something dark and frightening that he contemplated only in the wee hours when sleep was a hopeless chance. But his hands moved automatically, because it was so much a part of him now to do what Aziraphale asked of him. The sound of leather clearing belt loops was a surprise, and he coiled the belt in his hands and put it on the table beside the cedar box. 

Sliding back to his knees, Crowley looked up for permission, and saw Aziraphale smiling down at him with bemusement. “I think you rather expected a blushing virgin,” he finally said. “Does it bother you terribly that I’m not?”

“I don’t know what I thought,” Crowley admitted. “But it doesn’t bother me. You’ve always been… well, you’ve always been mine, and I knew you’d figure it out eventually. I just thought I’d see it coming and be a little better prepared for it.” While he was speaking, Crowley let his hands rest on Aziraphale’s thighs. They were hard under his hands as his fingers dug in, trying to right his spinning world. 

“And I’m ashamed that I didn’t see it sooner, everything that you have done for my sake.” He put his hands over Crowley’s, moved them back to his pants. “So keep steady on.” A small smile, and he brushed his thumb over Crowley’s lower lip. 

Crowley parted his mouth just enough, his head tipping forward so that the whole digit slipped into his mouth. Salt and coolness, like water from the bottom of the sea, and his tongue lapped as if he were parched. 

Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered closed, breath catching in his chest. Crowley’s mouth seemed hotter than before, tongue sliding slickly over nail and pad alike. The rough, almost scaly surface of Crowley’s tongue caught against the whorls and ridges of his skin, dragging across the sensitive surface like sandpaper. Then, as he pulled the wet digit out, Crowley’s lips pursed and pressed a warm kiss to the palm of his hand. He cupped Crowley’s cheek, and Crowley nuzzled into it. “I want to see you, Crowley,” Aziraphale murmured quietly. “And I do mean all of you.” 

Crowley rose to his feet, and his clothes drifted away like smoke. On his shoulders and back, there were patches of scales, hair on his chest spread lightly over his pectorals and abs, but solidified below his navel into a dark trail that led to a patch of wiry hair that framed heavy testicles and a very erect cock. His eyes were slitted nearly shut as he stretched, vertebra cracking as his spine realigned. 

He got back to his knees between Aziraphale’s legs, and looked up at him. “D’you like what you see?”

“Very much so.” He unzipped his trousers, lifting his hips so that Crowley could pull them down. Both trousers and underwear came at the same time, and Crowley tossed them over his shoulder. They landed haphazardly on the chair, but he didn’t care. Aziraphale was finally equally naked, shoes and socks apparently put away while Crowley had been examining the rooms. 

Crowley’s hands rose, bracing again on Aziraphale’s knees, and when he looked up, his eyes were open wide. There seemed to be a thousand unspoken sentences in their depths;  _ please don’t tell me to leave _ and  _ how am I supposed to be with you after everything _ and  _ say that you love me the way I love you _ and even  _ why would you choose me? _

Aziraphale had an answer for only one.  _ Why would you choose me? _ Was answered quite simply with  _ Because you chose me too, dearest one. _ Instead of words, he brought Crowley’s mouth forward.

He needed no further incentive; Crowley was already opening his mouth as Aziraphale moved him forward, and he slowly engulfed the hard shaft in his mouth. More salt, more silver coolness snaked across his tongue, and he groaned softly. His hands came up to grab forcefully onto Aziraphale’s hips, nails leaving half-moons in his wake. His eyes fell closed, and he gave a soft, slick noise in the back of his throat as he sucked harder. 

Blissful heat wrapped around Aziraphale’s cock, and his fingers moved to Crowley’s hair. He dug in, tight fistfuls as he held on for dear life. A raging fire started in the pit of his belly and spread out, filling him from toes to scalp. He felt as if it would burn through him, and distantly he realized that he was making formless little cries as Crowley’s mouth took him deeply every time. 

Crowley’s eyes were watering from the grip on his hair, but it only made his cock twitch. His steely grip on Aziraphale meant the angel couldn’t get away, and he wasn’t going to lose his moment. His tongue laved wet stripes down the hard column with every move, and the slicker it got, the easier it became to swallow it whole. His nose was pressed into the fragrant skin at the base of Aziraphale’s cock and he didn’t try to move. Aziraphale’s hand pressed the back of his head, keeping him still. Crowley swallowed hard, his throat tightening even as he struggled to suck in short breaths through his nose. 

He swallowed again, instinctively, as he felt Aziraphale’s cock begin to twitch. He worked his head back just enough to let it brush his tongue before it slid down his throat, and for the briefest of moments, the coolness at the core of Aziraphale’s being seemed to soothe the never-ending fire in Crowley’s heart. 

Why he had not done this before, pushed Crowley to his knees and let him suck, Aziraphale did not know. What he did know is that they would be doing that far more regularly. He withdrew slowly, and Crowley bathed every inch with his tongue. A soft deference filled Crowley’s face as he gazed upwards. “What is it?” Aziraphale asked quietly.

“You have to know that I love you,” he blurted out. That hadn’t been what he’d meant to say, but it was the bare, honest truth. 

“I do know that, yes. And I would hope that you know the same.” He brushed his knuckles across Crowley’s face. “I know that you do.” He stroked Crowley’s cheek again. “Up here on the bed.” Stretching out, he left more than half the bed open, and he patted it. “I won’t bite, unless you happen to enjoy that sort of thing.” 

Crowley laughed softly, and it sounded a tiny bit hysterical. “Er, I don’t know, usually I’m the one biting other people.”

“Ah.” That made a sad sort of sense to Aziraphale, and it solidified for him that he was doing the right thing. “Then perhaps we’ll find out a few things tonight.” Once Crowley was in bed beside him, Aziraphale rolled quickly, knees straddling Crowley’s hips so that he was looking down into  _ very _ surprised, very wide eyes. 

Crowley’s voice caught in his throat, and he quickly diverted his eyes. Anywhere, the ceiling, the books on the bedside table--the DH Lawrence book was actually  _ The Complete Poems of D.H. Lawrence, _ and he could read the faded print perfectly. He could not look at Aziraphale above him, smiling with absolute benevolence on a  _ demon _ . He could not look at Aziraphale above him, at all, because the radiance inside of him was blinding, especially at this distance. He could not look at Aziraphale above him, because it was the dirty thing he’d always dreamed of, his angel lying with him, fucking him, becoming forever mired in the dirt and the ash and the brimstone of Crowley’s existence.

Aziraphale didn’t try to force Crowley’s eyes back to him; he rather suspected there were things there Crowley would rather he didn’t see. Instead, he nestled into the crook of Crowley’s neck, leaving a ring of sharp nips and bites around his throat. He kissed away the sting of each bite, and each bite drew tortuous groans from Crowley’s tight throat. One of his hands came up to rest on the back of Aziraphale’s neck, thumbing the nape lightly while insistently pressing down.

He got the message; his next bite was sharp enough to draw blood, and Crowley’s back arched. The angel placed a second ring of bites around the first, beneath the Adam’s apple, and his tongue playfully licked the tiny pearls that beaded up from the wound. They tasted bitter, like burnt coal and dry wind, and there was a hard tang of copper in the aftertaste. But they also tasted like Crowley’s cologne, loud and metallic and bracing. He mouthed kisses up Crowley’s jaw, then drew his earlobe in for a sharp nip. His tongue pressed at the little hole, licking it softly before letting it slide out between his teeth. 

One hand slid down Crowley’s chest, tangling in the hair leading down to his groin. Aziraphale tugged playfully, sifting the curls between his fingers in a repetitive, soothing motion. “Look at me,” he finally whispered into Crowley’s ear. “I asked you, don’t hide from me. Let me see you, my darling.” 

Crowley could not deny the soft words;  _ I asked you, don’t hide from me, _ and so he turned his head back to look at Aziraphale. “You have seen me. You’ve seen all of me.” 

“And I still love you, Crowley.” His fingers were still petting Crowley’s body hair, and his other hand came to rest on Crowley’s cheek. “You seem to think that you’re going to ruin me, I see it.” He kissed both of Crowley’s eyelids when they flickered down to hide his eyes. “You’re not going to. You think I don’t know what you are? I know. I don’t care anymore.” More kisses to his closed eyes. “I think you’ve tortured yourself enough with what you think is going to happen, when in fact, the only thing that is going to happen is that I am going to take care of you tonight. I intend to see to it that you are nothing but a puddle of well-fucked goo by morning.” 

The crass word fell from Aziraphale’s lips like a grenade and it exploded in Crowley’s chest. His eyes flew open, only to see the corners of Aziraphale’s eyes crinkling as he smiled. “I thought that might get your attention,” the angel teased. “I didn’t really imagine anything would surprise you.” He let go of the hair, and rubbed his hand along Crowley’s stomach instead. “I suppose it would shock you to your core to have me say that I greatly enjoyed your mouth on my cock, that it was hot and wet and quite slick, just as I hope you will be when I’m deep inside of you. And I will be, my dearest. I will be as far inside of you as you will accept me, and a little further even than that. I will split you open, take you apart and put you back together again. And, if you are even a third as good as I think you are, I might not let you out of this bedroom for the foreseeable future.” 

Crowley’s mouth was dry and he couldn’t breathe. Wished his body didn’t need it, because he was already feeling dizzy and lightheaded. He couldn’t bear to look at Aziraphale, and yet he couldn’t close his eyes as he listened to Aziraphale list off the things he was going to do.  _ You’re easy to read, darling _ , echoed in his mind, knew that Aziraphale knew everything going through his mind, that had gone through his mind a hundred times in the darkest parts of the night. “Please, angel,” is all he could get out of his tight throat.

Aziraphale nodded. “Yes, of course, you don’t even have to ask.” He wrapped his hand around Crowley’s cock, feeling it jerk roughly under the touch. “Tell me how much you want me, dearest.” 

Arching his back, Crowley tried to move closer to Aziraphale, but the angel’s strength restrained him where he was. He whimpered softly, fingers digging into the sheets. “Aziraphale,  _ please. _ ”

The same, slow strokes didn’t falter. “Please what, Crowley?” 

“I can’t--I don’t--you  _ know _ .” He panted roughly, parched tongue licking dry lips.

“I want to hear it,” Aziraphale answered. “And you always give me what I want, don’t you? You always do what I ask, and sometimes even what I don’t ask. You know what I want, and you give it to me.” He kept his hand moving slowly on Crowley’s erection, refusing to let him move closer or beg for faster. “You love me, and you spoil me. Spoil me now, Crowley, please.”

“You own me, angel.” Crowley closed his eyes, squeezing them so hard he saw stars behind his lids. “From the moment you said you gave away that flaming sword of yours, I knew it was you. Not God, not Satan. You.” His teeth dug into his lower lip. “The one that I could love, that I would love, did love, do love.” Blood welled and trickled down his chin. “I didn’t expect you to be a blushing virgin, I didn’t. I wasn’t daft, I knew what you were doing, same as me. You made people love you, angel. You made them love you to want to be better for you, same as you make me. Except I fucked them. I took from them, I took their respect, I took their self-respect, and I made them loathe themselves so they’d do what I wanted.” He shuddered as he spoke, sliding his hands up and down his own arms. “I wanted you to do the same to me. Take away the loathing, take away the hurt, just… let me imagine for a moment that I’m not unlovable. That I’m not unforgivable. That I won’t drag you down into hell with me.” 

Aziraphale rewarded Crowley’s honesty with a tightened grip, stroking faster and wringing out soft little groans. “Don’t stop, and I won’t either.” 

Crowley’s fingernails clawed at his skin, leaving red streaks behind. “I want you to fuck me. Until there’s nothing left of me, until you’re all I feel inside me.” 

Aziraphale’s cool hand touched Crowley’s scratched skin, and with barely a thought healed the scratches. “I can do that for you.” He licked the blood that had rolled down Crowley’s chin, healing the torn skin with a kiss. “I won’t let you hurt yourself.” 

A bark of laughter was followed by a trembling breath. “Might be a lifetime job, angel.”

“I have all the time in the world to give to you.” Aziraphale kissed his way down Crowley’s chest, biting sharply around each nipple and leaving them hard and red. He left another bite mark over Crowley’s beating heart, feeling it thrumming and skipping beats. 

And Crowley was breathing hard, sharp little pants that cut on the way out of his mouth. He was trying to move, but Aziraphale was holding him still with one hand on his chest and the other still stroking his cock. He tried to keep talking, tried to choke out the angel’s name, but all he could work out were random syllables. “Az--Azira--Az--”

Aziraphale leaned over to whisper into Crowley’s ear. “I rather like the sound of my name on your tongue when you are coming just for me.” 

The hand on his chest lifted, and Crowley’s back nearly snapped as it bowed up sharply. The hot breaths of Aziraphale’s words in his ear caused his heart to pound in what felt like triple time. The arch of his back would not relax for a long moment, during which every sensation he felt was being funneled into his groin and out through his cock. 

Heavy, ropy strands of come shot out of him, and Aziraphale was just watching, eyes hungrily devouring every second. Every curl of his toes, every arch of his back, every drop that was wrung out of him the angel watched, and gave him a sly little smirk when he was done. “Now I think that’s loosened you up nicely,” he murmured, still stroking Crowley’s cock as it shuddered through the final moments of climax. “But please don’t imagine I’m done with you.” 

Crowley could only muster a shake of his head; he felt like he was six carriages behind on this roller coaster of a conversation, if this could have even been considered a conversation, what with all of Aziraphale’s hands on him jerking him off and oh, shit, did he just… 

“You did, my dearest,” Aziraphale chirped happily. His fingers were playing once again with the trail of hair that led down towards Crowley’s groin, dipping occasionally into the grooves of his hipbones. “You are skinny as anything. We’re going to have to fatten you up a bit.” 

“Nmmgugh.” He reached out for Aziraphale blindly, drew him up by an ear, and searched his face for a long moment. Unsure what it was he was looking for, he still didn’t find it, but not finding it made him smile.  _ Can I kiss you? _ Is what he meant to ask, but he ended up with about half the words. “Kiss you?”

“You don’t have to ask.” Aziraphale leaned in, waiting.

Crowley pushed himself up on his elbows, one hand coming up to touch Aziraphale’s face. He guided the angel in slowly, pressing their lips together and holding him tight. It was gentle and slow, without the frenetic nature of wanting to climb inside Aziraphale’s body as he’d felt the first time--and the second, and probably all the other kisses since--that he’d felt before. This was warm and easy and felt a great deal like the slippery slope of falling in love with someone. Again. 

Aziraphale moved easily to lay full-length along Crowley’s body, and Crowley’s eyes widened. Feeling the weight of another body pressing him down was just a tiny bit terrifying, a little more exhilarating, and altogether strange. He was used to being the one doing the looming over, looking down at the funny little men and women he tempted into bed. Being loomed over, even by Aziraphale, was an entirely new experience that he wasn’t sure how to deal with. 

But it felt  _ nice _ in a way that he couldn’t explain. Not being held down but just  _ feeling _ the weight, the pressure of another body on top of him that said  _ you are mine, I am claiming you, I have climbed your summit and plumbed your depths and I have made you mine.  _ Almost timidly, Crowley brought his arms up to wrap around Aziraphale’s waist to hold him close. 

Feeling Crowley settle in beneath him, Aziraphale shifted just a bit in the arms that encircled him. His feet pushed Crowley’s ankles apart, and his knees spread to widen Crowley’s. He tucked himself in, hips keeping Crowley’s thighs spread apart, and he kissed the inside of his knee. His tongue slipped into the crease of the joint, sliding in and out in a small tease of what Aziraphale had planned for the evening. 

Crowley shuddered, simply because no one had ever touched him quite so reverently before. Like he was blown glass that could be shattered by the most minor carelessness, or something altogether precious. “Az--Aziraphale.” 

“Mmm?” He pressed another kiss to Crowley’s knee, then started kissing down his thigh. 

“What are you doing?” Crowley was watching Aziraphale carefully.

There was an entire conversation to be had about that question, but it was a conversation that Aziraphale was not going to have at this moment. Instead, he paused in his kisses, and rested his chin on Crowley’s knee. “If I’m doing badly enough to have to ask…” he trailed off significantly, giving Crowley a little wink. 

Crowley let out a breathless laugh, because yes, it was rather obvious, and Aziraphale was not doing terribly at all. “No, no, you’re absolutely fine.” He himself was trembling like a bowstring ready to be plucked. 

“Good. Do us a favor and reach in that drawer, would you?” Aziraphale didn’t want to move from his space between Crowley’s legs, and so he outsourced the movement. 

Crowley obediently reached over his head, pulling the bedside table drawer open. Craning his neck to look in, he carefully withdrew… what the hell? He held the garishly colored tube up. “Angel?”

“Yes, thank you.” He was amused at the obvious distaste in Crowley’s voice for the packaging on the tube, but it wasn’t like he designed it. “Might be a bit cold.” 

This part, at least, Crowley was used to, and he moved to roll over onto his stomach. 

Aziraphale stopped him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Rolling over?” The tone of Crowley’s voice made the statement into a question. 

The conversation that they weren’t having right now just got about a half hour longer, Aziraphale reflected. The follow-up question,  _ for what earthly reason would you be doing that? _ would only extend that conversation by a couple of hours, and so he didn’t ask it. Instead, he merely said, “If I wanted you to move, I’d have told you to move, dear boy.” 

Crowley slowly lowered himself onto his back again, and for lack of anything else to do with his hands, linked them behind his head. Because otherwise, he would be clutching onto Aziraphale like clinging ivy. “Yes, sir,” was meant to be entirely sarcastic, even sounded that way inside of his head, but once it came out, it sounded far too longing and soft. 

Aziraphale actually leaned down and kissed him again. “Now you’re beginning to understand. You listen to me, and do as I tell you.” He bit Crowley’s lower lip gently. “Take your hands down and put your arms around me. Hold me close; I won’t break. But I want your arms around me, Crowley, and you always give me what I want.” 

Too right at that. Crowley was more than willing to embrace Aziraphale, and if he’d been human instead of angel, there would have been broken bones. But for as long as he had been waiting to do it, he was not going to let go of his grip on Aziraphale until the angel was torn bodily from his hands. 

Shivering at Crowley’s touch, Aziraphale found himself nestling into it. Didn’t notice how overly strong it was and didn’t care because finally, Crowley was relaxing. Getting into the swing of things, as it were. The lid of the tube flipped up easily, and Aziraphale caught Crowley’s eyes. Large and yellow, there were almost no whites left in them. “Look at me, darling,” he murmured softly, making sure that when his slick fingers slid between Crowley’s cheeks, all attention was on him, and not what he was doing. 

Crowley’s eyes widened, and he lifted his hips out of instinct. Aziraphale’s digits touched him briefly before pushing in, and Crowley arched into the touch. One of his legs, encouraged by Aziraphale, came up and hooked around the angel’s lower back. 

That delighted Aziraphale no end, and when Crowley spread his legs a little wider, the angel took advantage and lifted Crowley’s other leg so that both were wrapped around his waist. “Don’t take your eyes off me,” Aziraphale ordered. “I want to see you when I’m inside you.” He waited for Crowley’s acknowledgement, and when the demon nodded, Aziraphale moved. 

He stroked his cock, already hard and ready, spreading slickness down the head and shaft. Keeping Crowley’s legs lifted, he pressed forward, the head of his cock breaching slowly. He did not stop pushing until he was buried to the balls, and looked down at Crowley’s face. 

What little white there had been in Crowley’s eyes was completely gone, and the snake-like pupils were blown wide and glassy. Breath caught in his chest and stuttered out of his throat, and his nails were dug into Aziraphale’s shoulders, just where his wing joints would be. “Fuck me,” came out guttural and deep, and Crowley’s tongue was slightly more forked than usual. 

Aziraphale cared nothing about that, just leaning into the strokes of his hips. Crowley’s ankles were linked at the small of his back, and he felt heels pressing into his spine with each push. Desperately he yanked at Crowley’s arms, dragging his hands from their clutch at his neck and lacing their fingers together. 

Bones creaked painfully under the angel’s grip, but Crowley didn’t care. The pain shot through his body and was lost amid the surge of heat and want that grew straight from his cock and blossomed everywhere. He was aware, at some level, that Aziraphale was clinging to his hands and he didn’t care. He lifted himself again and again, meeting the angel’s thrusts with motion of his own. 

It drove his cock deeper into Crowley’s body, and Aziraphale’s head dropped to Crowley’s shoulder. Every single thought he’d ever had in the past had evaporated in the heat pooling between them. There were no more thoughts of  _ bad _ or  _ demons and angels _ or of anything except chasing that building rush, except thoughts of  _ Crowley _ and  _ finally mine _ and  _ make him scream. _

Make him scream. Aziraphale took that sole thought on as a challenge, even as the heat between them turned to sweat. Slippery and wet, he slid against Crowley’s skin so easily it was like he barely moved. It beaded like pearls on Crowley’s skin, his own splashed like glass bubbles shattering when they hit. His teeth caught in his lower lip even as Crowley sought to kiss him again, pulling the bitten lip into his mouth to soothe it with his tongue. 

The scream seemed to build together, first in Crowley’s chest, then in Aziraphale’s throat, until it tore out between them, straight from one mouth to the other. The angel could not tell who had begun it or where it ended, only that it passed between them in the kiss, and they had both swallowed it whole. 

The burst of Crowley’s orgasm just added to the sweat and the slick pooled between them, and as soon as Crowley’s balls had finished emptying themselves, Aziraphale’s orgasm began, filling again what was lost. 

Crowley’s eyes were still on Aziraphale as the angel’s arms collapsed. He caught Aziraphale against his chest, holding him there with hands still intertwined. His breath puffed hotly in the angel’s ear, even as Aziraphale’s panting stirred the ends of Crowley’s hair. His cheek was plastered to Crowley’s skin and he did not care in the least. Crowley’s heart was pounding in his ear, and Aziraphale pulled their joined hands down so that he could rest his cheek on their fingers. 

Crowley very tenderly and very, very cautiously kissed Aziraphale’s hair. When nothing happened, when no lightning came from Heaven to strike him down, when no gouts of flame rolled up from the depths of Hell to devour him, he risked another kiss, to Aziraphale’s temple, and then down the side of his face until he got to his mouth. 

Aziraphale was ready, and turned eagerly into the kiss being bestowed upon him, , breathing in short pants. “Crowley?”

“Hmm? Yeah?” One of his hands was a pillow for Aziraphale, and the other was still holding his angel’s other hand. So he simply squeezed. 

“I thought you should know we’re going to do this a lot more often.”

The smile on Aziraphale’s face plus the earnest promise in the words made Crowley laugh happily. “Right you are, angel. But you’re going to have to shell out for a bigger bed.” 

“Nonsense. This bed is perfect.” Perhaps a bit small, but it also meant he got to lay practically atop Crowley as the demon slept. If he slept. If he didn’t, well, there were a lot of other ways they could spend that time in bed. 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,  
> or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.  
> I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,  
> in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
> 
> I love you as the plant that never blooms  
> but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;  
> thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,  
> risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
> 
> I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.  
> I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;  
> so I love you because I know no other way
> 
> than this: where I does not exist, nor you,  
> so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,  
> so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
> 
> Poetry by Pablo Neruda.


End file.
